Forms of Love
by Gosangoku
Summary: They show it in different ways. — US/UK.


_Kiss on the stomach = "I'm ready."_

Gasps, pants, and moans all filled the air as butterfly kisses were trailed up and down his neck, his chest, and then there was a pause before he kissed his stomach and smiled gently at his former guardian, who remained reluctant for a moment before smiling back and nodding.

_Kiss on the Forehead = "I hope we're together forever."_

"I remember," Arthur said softly as he watched a cabbage butterfly dance over his roses. "When you were just a colony, and I kissed your forehead every night when you fell asleep."  
Alfred started, surprised, before flushing slightly in embarrassment. He then blinked curiously at England. "You... did that? I remember you reading me stories, but..."  
The Englishman blushed this time. "I did it when you fell asleep," he admitted quietly. "Because I wanted us to stay together forever..." He gasped in astonishment when he felt a small pressure being applied against his forehead. Blush intensifying, he touched his forehead before staring at his fellow blond.  
"We will be."

_Kiss on the Ear = "You're my everything."_

"Fine, fine, I'll turn the blasted thing off," Arthur said huffily, exasperated. He flicked the television off and then turned to roll his eyes at Alfred. "Honestly, I cannot comprehend why you watch these bloody films if all it accomplishes is scaring you."  
"It's 'cause," Alfred said, pausing to place a small, almost seductive kiss on England's ear, whom flared angrily in response. "I know you'll always be there to save me... like you've always been there... through everything."  
"...Dork."  
"You love it."

_Kiss on the Cheek = "We're friends."_

"I wanna go on that ride next!" Alfred declared excitedly, gesturing wildly to a large, speedy, horrifying-looking ride that flipped people upside-down.  
Still staggering from the last one, Arthur fell against the American, who caught him easily without a second thought. "I'd rather not," he murmured.  
"Aw, c'mon, England," the blue-eyed man whined petulantly, jutting his lower lip out in a pouting gesture. "It'll be sooo cool! Then I'll win you something, 'kay?" he offered, beaming innocently.  
Flushing deeply, Arthur just grumbled a, "Whatever," and then only blushed darker when he received a peck on the cheek.  
"Thanks, Iggy! Let's go!"  
"...Brat." But he was smiling.

_Kiss on the Hand = "I adore you."_

"What the bloody _hell_ was that for, you git?" shouted an irate English nation. "I could've easily handled myself! I've dealt with France long before you even existed, so--" He cut himself off with a deep intake of breath when a gentle kiss was placed on his hand. He stared at Alfred with wide eyes, demanding an explanation.  
"I know that," replied the American, looking bashfully to the side as he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "But... I wanna protect you. I'm a hero after all. So... let me?"  
A pause.  
"J--just this once."

_Kiss on the Neck = "We belong together."_

"You know what they say, England," Alfred drawled as he nibbled at Arthur's neck, mentally applauding himself for lending the Englishman one of his too-big shirts. Arthur really was so small now! "Opposites attract. Ooh, that gave me an idea for a great pick-up line!"  
"Spare me the torture. Besides," the sandy-blond muttered moodily, leaning up and whispering into the taller man's ear, "You've already 'picked me up'."

_Kiss on the Shoulder = "I want you."_

"I can't believe my flight was cancelled," an agitated Arthur Kirkland grumbled, folding his arms. "Now I have to spend more time with you."  
"It's not _that_ bad, Iggy," Alfred said in a sing-song voice, before turning to the older man with a puppy-dog pout. "Don't'cha wanna spend time with me?"  
"Gah!" The Englishman grimaced. "Damn that cute face of yours--" Gasping, he covered his mouth with his hands. _I just said that out loud, didn't I?_  
Grinning lecherously, the American leant down and placed a delicate kiss on Arthur's shoulder. "You can never resist me."

_Kiss on the Lips = "I love you."_

"Why does it always have to rain here?" Alfred whined, shrugging off his wet bomber jacket as he entered Arthur's house. "Yo, Englaaand!"  
"I'm coming, I'm coming, you brat," replied an irritated voice as a certain Englishman trode down the stairs before catching sight of Alfred and dashing up to him. "You idiot! I knew this would happen," he muttered and, sure enough, he had brought a towel with him. Leaning up, he began drying the American's hair.  
"Aw, you care," the younger country said teasingly, grinning brightly.  
"Of course I do, idiot," murmured the Englishman, pressing his lips softly against his former colony's.  
Soon enough, they had thrown themselves onto the sofa, and the now-damp towel lay forgotten on the floor.

_Holding Hands = "We definitely love each other."_

"Hey, let's go see what's over there!" an animated American declared brightly, pointing to yet another booth.  
"I don't see why you have to drag me around. I'm sure you could find someone else to take with you," grumbled a moody Englishman. In Alfred's perspective, storm clouds were always above that guy's head.  
"But I wanted to come here with you," the blue-eyed nation said warmly, smiling a smile that could rival the sun.  
"Ah..." Arthur flushed.  
"So, let's g--" Alfred cut himself off when he felt something cold wind itself into his hand. "Eh?" Looking down, he noticed Arthur's hand intertwined with his. His eyes widened for a moment before he beamed brightly as tightened the grip on his hand. "Cold hands, warm heart," he murmured thoughtfully.  
"What was that?"  
"Nothing. Let's go win you a unicorn plush doll or something now."

_Slap on the Butt = "That's mine."_

"France." It was said stoically but with a threatening undertone.  
"Yes, mon cher?" drawled a sultry, seductive voice.  
"Would you kindly... remove you damnable hand from my _arse_, you prick?" screamed an obviously livid Englishman, before he froze and yelped in surprise. Turning, he saw Alfred behind him, eyes glinting.  
"Yeah, France," the American said in annoyance. "This"--he gestured to England with a tilt of his head--"is _mine_."  
"Ah," France said shakily, cowardly side kicking in. "I do apologi--"  
"I am _no one's property_, you gits!"

_Holding on tight = "I don't want to let go."_

"Try to stay still, America," whispered a remorseful England as he dabbed at the addressed man's wounds with iodine, vaguely wishing that it didn't have to hurt him. Alfred had so many wounds on him. When Arthur had found him, all bloodied and battered, he'd spared no time in carrying him--blimey, he was heavy!--to his house and gathering any medical things he could locate. "When I see that-that _wanker_, I'll _kill_ him!"  
"No," whispered Alfred hoarsely as he wove his arms around Arthur's waist and pulling the smaller man's towards him.  
"A-Alfred, I said to stay still! You're still--"  
"Just stay with me," the other interjected, disregarding the older nation's words. "Please... don't leave. Just stay. I... I..." _I need you. I don't... want to let you go._  
As if hearing the bigger nation's unspoken words, Arthur relaxed in his hold and remained there even when Alfred fell asleep.

_Looking into each other's eyes = "I just plain love you."_

"I'm glad Kiku invited us to see his sakura trees," Arthur said, excitement in his voice for once as he stared up at the sky with wonderment and awe. "They're so beautiful... Don't you think so, Ameri--" He stopped when he had turned to Alfred, only to see the man's azure eyes pinned onto his own emerald ones. "A-America?" he whispered, confused.  
"I agree," said the younger man, smiling affectionately. "Almost as beautiful as you." He didn't remove his gaze.  
Flaring crimson, the Englishman murmured, "Idiot," but didn't let his own gaze waver either.

_Playing with hair = "Tell me you love me."_

America was growing tired of England's ranting. He was always going on about stuff that Alfred didn't want to hear. He wished Arthur didn't just tirade about other countries, or murmur deliriously about his illusions, or insult America...  
Huffing in annoyance, America rolled over so he was straddling England on the grass. Instantly, the older nation's tirade faded and he sputtered, "Wh-what do you think you're doing?"  
Ignoring the smaller man's question, he began playing with Arthur's choppy sandy locks, huming some Linkin Park tunes to himself.  
Twitching, England blushed and turned away to stare at nothing in particular. "...Love you..."  
Alfred grinned. "I love you too."

_Arms around the waist = "I love you too much to let go."_

"This-this isn't what it looks like!" Arthur spouted hastily when Alfred entered the conference room. He began shifting guiltily and nervously when the American just raised a brow and smirked.  
"Really," the bigger country drawled, amused. "And what does it look like? Like you've taken my jacket hostage to use for ejactulation material?"  
"N-nothing of the sort and you know it!" the humiliated Englishman shouted in response. He marched up to America, removing the jacket as he did so. "H-here! I was simply keeping it warm until I returned it to you!"  
"Aww, Iggy's so thoughtful." Alfred sniggered and wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist. "But I'd much prefer if you came to me for a source of warmth instead."  
"...Brat."

_Laughing while kissing = "I am completely comfortable with you."_

_This_, Alfred thought. _This is the perfect mood..._ He slowly trailed the arm he had around Arthur's shoulder down to the older nation's waist. The sandy-blond looked up at him, confused and slightly annoyed. _I _did_ interrupt his reading... But still_. Leaning down, he whispered, "Do you have a map? 'Cause I got lost in your eyes," and then pressed his lips against England's. He felt confused himself when he felt some weird vibrations in his lips and Arthur's shoulders shaking. Pulling away, he saw the Englishman laughing. "What's so funny?" He pouted.  
"Th-that pick-up line was so corny," the man said, smirking as his giggles disippated.  
Alfred flushed slightly. "Whatever!" he said huffily, pulling away only for England to pull him back by his collar.  
"You're offended too easily," Arthur said, and shoved his own lips back against Alfred's, still chuckling into the kiss.

_Picking someone up off their feet = "I love you so much; I'll do anything for you."_

As he had expected, Arthur was in his extravegant garden, gently fingering his pride and joy - his roses.**(1)** His green umbrella had so much rain dripping from it as it shielded England from the downpour, but the bottom of Arthur's sleeves were soaked.  
_Probably because he's been hugging his flowers and stuff. Then, I can't talk, I'm wetter than he is..._  
As if hearing this thought, Arthur looked up, emerald eyes widening in surprise when he saw his former colony standing there... _without_ an umbrella! He stood immediately and dashed over to the younger nation. "Idiot!" he shouted in annoyance as he put his own umbrella over Alfred's head, not caring that he was starting to get wet. "You'll get sick, and you get sick enough as it is. What's wrong with you? Argh... Why are you here anyway? You should be resting. You could have called! You--"  
Interrupting Arthur's rant--as he'd heard it a thousand times before--he wove an arm under the Englishman's waist and legs and heaved him up without much of an effort, and then shifted his arm so it supported Arthur's shoulders. The green umbrella was dropped during the pick-up, and England was now struggling and shouting in America's hold. "L-let go, you bloody moron! Wh-what do you think you're doing?"  
"Heh," Alfred laughed as he leant down and rubbed his nose against Arthur's. "I missed you."  
Arthur started, astonished. He remained like that for a few seconds before blushing and relaxing in the American's hold.  
"I missed you too."

**O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O**

**Characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**(1) The rose is the flower representative of England, and it has been since a civil war. I'm no good at explaining, so here's an explanation I located:**

_**England - St. George and the Rose  
**__**The national flower of England is the rose. The flower has been adopted as England's emblem since the time of the Wars of the Roses - civil wars (1455-1485) between the royal house of Lancaster (whose emblem was a red rose) and the royal house of York (whose emblem was a white rose).**_** Extract from **http : / / project britain . com / **. Just take out the spaces if you want to go there.**

So, you've all seen those lines on journals and things, right? I skimmed over it again for the nth time, and thought, "Hey, since I'm obsessed, this remindes me of US_**x**_**UK!" and so I wrote this. T'was quite fun. c:**

Rated 'T' for safety.

Constructive criticism appreciated. Hint hint.


End file.
